


Teach the Free Man How to Praise (Coda)

by Xela



Series: Prison Verse [2]
Category: Psych
Genre: M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-13
Updated: 2011-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xela/pseuds/Xela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dissolution of a dynamic and the flowering of a relationship.  In which Carlton's skittish, Shawn <i>really</i> wants to get laid, and Esme believes in the healing power of boy!sex.   Lighthearted and happy...except the part where Carlton has mad relationship angst and Shawn's still not *completely* healed, but he's getting there...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach the Free Man How to Praise (Coda)

**Author's Note:**

> The tone of this didn't fit in with the original fic, hence it being a coda.

Shawn tried—really, really, REALLY tried—to figure out why Lassy was holding out on him. Yes, yes, he got why Carlton cut them off in the first place. It was all very responsible of him in that annoying thinking-about-the-future kind of way. But Shawn would really, really, REALLY like to have sex again. Soon. This century. Before he's old and decrepit and arguing with Gus about who used the last of the denture cream. And from what he remembers, he and Lassy were great at the sex—though granted, it had been SO LONG the memories had spider webs on them and there's a 55% chance he imagined it all.

He hasn't had an attack in over a month, but they hadn't gone much past second base in that whole time (though Shawn had managed to steal third a couple of times, and once was close to sliding into home when Carly came, distressingly, to his senses). Seriously, if he was anyone else, Shawn might have started thinking Carlton didn't want him anymore, or that he wasn't enough for his Lassypants.

Esme had been no help; she kept refusing to get in between their 'dynamic' and saying things like if it was really bugging him, shouldn't he take it up with Carlton? Shawn had glared at her and then done just that. Kinda.

Shawn's thought process went like this: Carlton liked lists. He liked things presented in a neat and orderly fashion, logically displayed so he could sink his pointy little Irish canines into any flaws and rip it to shreds. He made Shawn write out lists back at the beginning. Ergo, he should make a list of all the reasons they were ready to go all the way.

>   1. Sex creates a long and lasting emotional connection and brings mutual pleasure to both parties.  
> 
>   2. Sex releases endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. All work and no play makes Carlton grouchy.  
> 
>   3. If you don't use it, it SHRINKS AND FALLS OFF.  
> 
>   4. Our condoms are about to expire. That would be a waste.  
> 
>   5. According to a study at Queens University in Belfast, men who have sex three or more times a week can cut their risk of heart attack in half. And stroke!  
> 
>   6. There are only reruns on TV.  
> 
>   7. An active sex life slows the aging process.  
> 
>   8. Obama's the president.  
> 
>   9. Please please please please please please please?
> 


Shawn left the list somewhere Carlton was sure to find it: right on top of his reenactment uniform. (Shawn decided not to press his luck and address it to 'The General.' See? He could show restraint and judgment.) He even resisted hovering in the room to watch Carlton find it, and dragged Esme to a truly horrendous movie so he wouldn't stalk Lassy on the battlefield.

But when Carlton came back from 'drills,' he didn't mention the list. And no matter how hard Shawn snooped, he couldn't find it amongst Carlton's belongings. Carlton ignored Shawn's loitering with such easy aplomb that when Carlton had gone to bed, Shawn checked to make sure the list hadn't fallen on the floor.

Shawn spent three days driving himself (and Esme, and Sam, and Gus, and McNab and Jules) crazy about that list.

And then it reappeared, tucked between the pages of _Good Omens._ His list, with Lasstastic commentary.

>   1. ~~Sex creates a long and lasting emotional connection and brings mutual pleasure to both parties.~~ Doctor Kagan does couple's therapy as well.  
> 
>   2. ~~Sex releases endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. All work and no play makes Carlton grouchy.~~ You're mixing your pithy phrases.  
> 
>   3. ~~If you don't use it, it SHRINKS AND FALLS OFF.~~ I am not your high school girlfriend.  
> 
>   4. ~~Our condoms are about to expire. That would be a waste.~~ I've donated them to Sam and Esme. God forbid they  procreate.  
> 
>   5. ~~According to a study at Queens University in Belfast, men who have sex three or more times a week can cut their risk of heart attack in half. And stroke!~~ You've already given me both.  
> 
>   6. ~~There are only reruns on TV.~~ Read a book.  
> 
>   7. ~~An active sex life slows the aging process.~~ I am prematurely grey because of you. No amount of sex is going to reverse that.  
> 
>   8. ~~Obama's the president.~~ Palin still shows up on my TV with alarming frequency.  
> 
>   9. ~~Please please please please please please please?~~ “Between repetition and forgetting, it is a marvel that a new thought ever struggles into existence.”  
> 
>   10. Not yet.
> 


  
Well. This was going to be tougher than he initially thought.

****

“Favorite Carlton, are you planning to put that poor boy out of his misery any time soon?” Carlton stared at Esme suspiciously, who rolled her eyes. “He didn't _send_ me, _Detective._ I'm not Shawn's buttmonkey.”

“No, you're Sam's,” Carlton fired back smugly, almost as pleased getting one up on her as he was when he trumped Shawn. When Esme grinned sharply, Carlton tried to cover the way his stomach dropped by taking a sip of his coffee.

“Only when I'm very, very good.” Carlton choked on his drink, coffee burning the sensitive lining of his nose. Esme cackled.

“You did that on purpose,” Carlton accused sullenly, grabbing a napkin.

 _“Of course_ I did!” Carlton scowled at her, but it was like dousing a duck with water; she just smiled and let his ire slide right off of her. Carlton reached for another napkin but Esme snatched them away and held them hostage. “So?”

“So _what?”_ Carlton asked, grabbing at the napkins.

“What's the hold up, Lass-a-doodle-dandy?” Carlton stared at her, utter horror etched on his features. He saw the corner of Esme's mouth twitch before she could stop it.

“Don't...you...” Carlton made an inarticulate sound of abject fury. Esme didn't even bother to pretend she didn't know what was making him mad.

“Would you prefer Lassatoré? Carly-poo?” Esme's eyes glinted dangerously. “ _Lassy-wassy?_ ”

“Muurghaaa!”

“Wow, you really do turn vermillion.” Esme whipped out her camera-phone to take his picture, and Carlton would bet his life she was sending it to Shawn.

 **“ESME!”** Carlton managed to choke out. Shawn was emphatically not allowed to hang out with...with _her_ ever. Again. She signed and tucked her phone away, leveling a piercing look at Carlton.

“Alright, seriously? What are you waiting for? Because if you don't throw Shawn down and fuck his brains out sometime soon, _I'm_ not going to be able to stand him.” Esme leaned forward earnestly. “If you're not going to do him for me, do him for Sam.”

****

Carlton spent a lot of time thinking about Esme's question. What _was_ he waiting for? What was holding him back? He had Sam and Esme's blessing, ~~DK~~ _Doctor Kagan's_ approval, and Shawn's enthusiastic support. He hadn't talked to Gus, but judging by the man's fraying temper and Juliet's strained, hinting conversations, they were on board. The only thing missing from this equation was him.

It wasn't that he was having performance issues. He was far too old to doubt his abilities where the bedroom was concerned, and he and Shawn had already done the awkward first time thing.

Except how they hadn't.

For better or worse, they'd been driven into their relationship by outside influences. Driven into it, but he and Shawn had built something despite the odds against them. Shawn was healthy—well, he needed to eat more vegetables and cut back on the smoothies, but Carlton was working on it—and getting back to his old self. He and Gus had reopened Psych, though they hadn't taken on a case beyond cheating spouses and the like. His jokes didn't come off strained, and he only lashed out when someone triggered a particularly vicious memory. He was going out alone: hanging out with Esme, surfing with Sam, pestering Gus into almost getting fired from his real job, giving Juliet unwanted advice about the care and feeding of Burton Guster. And that was it. Shawn was _healing._ He was taking care of himself; he didn't need Carlton to do that anymore.

Their agreement had always been temporary, and their agreed upon four months had been up several months ago. And yeah, Carlton appreciated being able to shut Shawn up with a look, but being in charge of someone (particularly Shawn) 24/7 was a tall order.

And that was it, the thing that was holding him back.

Shawn didn't need him like that anymore, and Carlton was more than happy to relegate their 'dynamic' to a 'special occasions (and every other day)' category of their sex lives. Shawn was more than capable of taking care of himself now; and maybe even needed to before he could continue getting better. Their arrangement was a safety blanket that neither Shawn nor he could hold on to forever. That they were ready to be weaned off of.

He just wasn't sure how to dissolve their relationship without dissolving their _relationship._

So Carlton supplanted worrying about why he wasn't ready with worrying about how to admit to being ready but-not-in-that-way. Amazingly, it was an e-mail from Shawn that shoved Carlton out of his funk and made him realize he was an _idiot_ and had learned _nothing_ over the past few months. Esme was going to either laugh at him or smack him upside the head. Maybe both. She was good at embodying seemingly disparate emotions and actions.

See, Shawn sent Carlton something called a 'lolcat.' The e-mail featured a grey tabby staring mournfully at him with the text, “I can haz teh secks? Plz?” emblazoned on the corner. It took Carlton ten minutes to decipher what that meant, but when he did, he couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up in his chest. Once he started, he couldn't stop. His belly-laughs echoed through the station, loud and uncensored. Juliet watched him with worry, and even Chief Vick poked her head around the corner to see if her head detective was losing his mind.

Somehow, impossibly, he'd forgotten that this was Shawn he was dealing with. Poster child for 'carefree and easy going' (except when he totally, completely, and utterly wasn't). Shawn, who often dropped bombs in the middle of a series of random words strung together to form incoherent and often grammatically flawed sentences. Who was, irrevocably and regardless of a collar around his neck, Carlton's. Just as Carlton was Shawn's despite his obsession with pineapples and _CSI._ The point being, he was stressing far, far too much about this entire situation when he could just _talk to Shawn_ about it (and until they actually removed the collar, his word was still law).

In the midst of his 'I'm Ready' high, Carlton realized he couldn't reward bad grammar or Shawn maligning pictures of cats, which delayed his plans by a couple of days. Which was actually fine; he had some arrangements to make, and he knew who would help him out.

He called Esme, who forced him to tell her the whole story. She (predictably) laughed at him. “Oh. Favorite. Carlton. You are just...never change. And if I were there, I'd totally slap you upside the head, Gibbs style.” Carlton rolled his eyes and ignored what he assumed was a pop culture reference.

“So you'll help me?”

“Are you kidding? Operation Quad-S is a go!”

“Dare I ask?” Carlton ventured.

“Seduce Shawn Spencer...Seriously! No, Splediforously! Superbly? Sexpertly? Oh, oh! Scor—” Carlton hung up on her.

****

Shawn and Esme walked in to a bar. It sounded like the beginning of a really great joke or, at the very least, a good story. Shawn was not amused. His frustration was mixing with his dissatisfaction and spawning little balls of angry vexation. Shawn ordered a Pineapple colada to improve his mood, only to have it intercepted upon arrival.

“Esme!”

“Nope. No drinking. As far as I know, that particular edict hasn't been lifted,” Esme said, cheerfully sipping on Shawn's drink.

“We shared a bottle of wine the last time we went out to eat!” Shawn protested, watching his drink disappear before his eyes. Esme shrugged, and Shawn could tell not all the charm in the world would sway her.

“Carlton was there. Dom's prerogative.” Shawn sighed and mentally waved his colada goodbye. Esme watched her friend deflate and decided to throw him a bone. “Buck up, Shawnster! This night may end happier than you think.” Shawn perked up, the full force of his focus on her.

“What do you know?” Esme smiled obtusely at him. “Oh, come on! Where's the solidarity! Love to the subs!”

“Yeah, you might have to come up with a new one soon,” Esme muttered, draining the last of the drink. Pineapple wasn't her favorite flavor by a long shot, but she had developed something of a tolerance since being sucked into Shawn Spencer's orbit.

“Your words have gone the way of the Great Dragon,” Shawn intoned seriously. Esme frowned; she could usually follow Shawn's references, but this one...wait. No. No way.

“Did you just make a _Merlin_ reference? That...that show hasn't even aired here!”

“You've seen it _and_ got the reference.” Esme made a face because she didn't want to think about what that meant, following Shawn's thought processes so effortlessly.

“Shut up and dance with me. I have to keep you here for two more hours.” It was as much of an admission as he would get, but it was enough to lighten Shawn's mood. Though that certainly didn't mean he wasn't going to annoy her with questions.

“So what's he got planned?”

“Just dance, Shawn.”

...

“So if I was a hypothetical head detective with a control kink who wanted to surprise his awesome, amazingly hot psychic detective lover, what would I do?”

“Well, I sold him a bullwhip yesterday, and—”

“Point taken. Shutting up.”

“Just...” They both paused, motionless in a sea of shifting bodies. Esme put her hands on Shawn's shoulder, the pads of her thumbs brushing against the underside of Shawn's collar. “It's Carlton. Remember that.”

Shawn wasn't sure what that meant, but the words weren't as foreboding as they could have been.

\----

“Good night, Shawn.”

“Good night, Esme.” Shawn stuck his head back through the window. “Seriously, though—”

“Shawn.”

“Yes?”

“I want to give you a big, long, _tight_ hug right around your skinny little neck until you turn purple and die.”

“So what you're saying is I should suck it up and go see what Lassy has planned.”

“ _Please._ ”

Shawn swallowed and stared at the house, suddenly filled with nervous anticipation. The porch lights were on, warm and inviting. He opened the front door and was struck by the silence in the house. He was about to call out when he caught sight of something halfway up the stairs, waiting for him.

Shawn laughed as he picked up the pineapple, a rainbow ribbon tied around the stem. Awesome. He glanced up and spied another gift sitting at the top of the landing. He tripped over himself trying to get to it.

Shawn didn't even try to keep the smile of his face. Carlton was SUCH a _sap._ Three interlocking picture frames held glossy 8x10 photos of the two of them. The first was a candid shot taken at Samse's (as Shawn had taken to calling Sam and Esme) lovely home. Shawn was looking up at Carlton with earnest wonderment, probably trying to convince him some harebrained scheme was the best idea since internet porn; Carlton's lips were curved into a small, indulgent smile, eyes warm.

The second picture had been taken in their living room. Shawn remembered this moment. He'd been trying to negotiate for an episode of _CSI_ , Carlton had been staunchly against it. Sam had mentioned that whoever had the remote had the power, which had instigated a wrestling match between the two of them. They were laughing even as they struggled to get away from one another. They'd ended up in a tangle of limbs, lips pressed together, and Shawn hadn't cared that Carlton won. Especially since he turned on _CSI_ anyways.

The third picture, the center piece of the collage...Shawn swallowed heavily, body temperature rising as he remembered it. Samse had offered to let them try out some supervised suspension bondage. Carlton, with Sam and Esme's guidance, had tied Shawn up, head to toe, and suspended him several feet off the ground. The sensation had been unbelievable, Shawn falling completely into his own headspace. It had been a powerful, moving experience for them both, and it had taken Shawn almost a full hour to come back up. This picture had been taken towards the end of the long climb back to reality. They were both curled in towards each other, half of Shawn's face buried in Carlton's chest, a complete contentment suffusing his features. Carlton was looking down at him with such tenderness, a small, secretive smile on his face.

Shawn gently pushed the door to their room open. Carlton was standing next to the dresser, fiddling with nick-knacks on the top, his face reflected softly in the large mirror. His shirt and tie hung off him, leaving a wide swatch of chest exposed for Shawn's viewing pleasure. He looked edible and ridiculously hot.

Shawn must have made some sound because Carlton glanced up and met Shawn's eyes in the mirror. His gaze flicked to the presents cradled against Shawn's chest and he grinned. Shawn grinned back.

“You like it?” Carlton asked, turning around and resting his hip against the low dresser.

“Best dressed pineapple anyone's ever given me!” Carlton rolled his eyes and Shawn placed his gifts on the dresser top so his hands were free. There was Lassy chest on display, going untouched and ignored. He couldn't have that.

Carlton sucked in a breath as Shawn trailed a finger from his neck to his navel. Hands skimmed over his stomach and around Carlton's sides to settle on his hips. Shawn brushed a thumb against the top of his pants, teasing. Carlton bent down and kissed Shawn, his own hands detouring to tuck into the pockets of Shawn's ridiculously tight clubbing jeans.

“What did I do to deserve a rainbow-accented pineapple?” Shawn asked when Carlton let him up for air. Instead of answering with something naughty (“Nothing...yet.”) or dryly dissembling (“I thought it went with your décor.”) like Shawn imagined, Carlton smiled at him cupped his face, running his thumbs over the swell of Shawn's cheekbones. Since Carlton rarely did touchy-feely, it was enough to make Shawn eye him suspiciously. He got nervous when Carlton actually blushed and looked away.

Shawn immediately discarded thoughts of: breaking up, a threesome with Gus, aliens, Carlton leaving, a pineapple disease killing all the pineapple trees in the world making his pineapple the very last one in all of existence, Juliet not coming home, and Carlton being transferred to France or recruited by the FBI/CIA/SEALs. Or being drafted. (Bush getting a third term had only been a terrifying dream that one time...)

Shawn's entire thought process ground to a shuddering halt when Carlton laid his fingers gently on the clasp of Shawn's collar. His heart started beating quickly, and his breath caught in his throat. His hands came up to grasp at Carlton's arms, trying to keep him from moving. He felt the world start spinning, memories trying to intrude on him.

“Shawn,” Carlton called firmly, but didn't remove his hands from the thin strip of leather around Shawn's throat. “Shawn! _Spencer!”_ Shawn jerked back, eyes staring at him without comprehension. Carlton stroked his thumb along Shawn's neck, trying to will him to calm down. Shawn sunk into him, forehead resting against Carlton's chest as he curled inwards. Carlton let go of the collar in favor of wrapping his arms around Shawn, who was still freaking out. Shawn's reaction to him just touching the collar was making him reconsider the entire thing.

Eventually, Shawn pulled back. His face was flushed, but he appeared calm if a little ruffled.

“So, that may have been an extreme reaction,” Shawn admitted with a half grin. He tried to pull back further, but Carlton kept him close, and Shawn didn't put up much resistance.

“You've definitely had worse,” Carlton said with a small smile. Shawn pursed his lips and mock-glared, but there was an undercurrent of amusement to his expression. The stood in silence for a second, letting the atmosphere settle around them.

“So,” Shawn said, looking past Carlton and into the mirror. “You're ready to, uh...” He jerked his head to the side so the collar could be seen.

“No,” Carlton said, tilting Shawn's chin up so their eyes met. “ _You_ don't need this anymore, Shawn. You can take care of yourself. And honestly, you're kind of exhausting to keep ahead of. I have no idea how you cram that much...activity...into one day.”

Shawn smiled back at Carlton, though it wavered around the edges and come off strained. They'd agreed upon four months, signed and dated. This wasn't the lifestyle Carlton wanted; Shawn had known that from the beginning, but he was selfish enough to take what Carlton offered and cling to it.

“It's...I need...” Shawn shook his head, trying to find the words, to explain what the collar was, what it _meant._ It was refuge, away from the memories that were always lurking under the surface. It was Carlton, always nearby. Safety, acceptance, comfort...love.

“Shawn?” Carlton called. Shawn looked up and found Carlton watching him intently. Carlton, who commandeered interrogation rooms when Shawn showed up at the station unannounced, looking haunted and worn, despite what people must be saying about them. Whose voice drove away nightmares. Who always picked up his phone if Shawn called and needed to talk. Who wanted to protect people so much he became a cop. Who got it. He wouldn't have given Shawn the collar otherwise because, as Esme had pointed out, he was Carlton.

“You don't have to decide now,” Carlton offered, completely sincere.

“Pretty sure I've already figured it out,” Shawn said with far more levity than he felt. He was good at that. Luckily, Carlton was good at seeing through that. Shawn took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Okay.” He put his hands over Carlton's and guided them to the back of the collar.

They took it off together, the soft leather slipping easily through the buckle.

Shawn felt...the same. Carlton's hands were warm on his shoulder, steady and there and watching him with dark eyes, the promise of the night stretched between them. Shawn let his eyes wander from Carlton's feet—he was barefoot, how had Shawn missed that?—up to his waist, to the shirt that wantonly framed Carlton's chest.

“Yeah?” Carlton breathed, eyes dark with arousal but still checingk Shawn for any signs of distress. Shawn took a deep breath, then smiled cheekily at him, stepping into Carlton's space and wiggling suggestively against him.

“Oh yeah. I ate my Wheaties this morning,” Shawn told him seriously. Carlton gave Shawn a questioning, skeptical look. “Better than oysters.” Shawn did something extremely distracting that involved his hips and breaking at least three laws of physics.

“I hate oysters,” Carlton said, fingers skating along the edge of Shawn's pants. His skin was hot to the touch.

“I know,” Shawn whispered, the tip of his tongue tracing the outline of Carlton's ear. Carlton twined his fingers in Shawn's hair and yanked him around. Shawn sagged against him, letting Carlton propel them towards the bed.

They bounced once, hands working to undresses one another. Carlton was pleased he had the foresight to unbutton his shirt, because the force with which Shawn yanked it off would have sent buttons flying. Shawn was wearing one of his too-tight tees, which Carlton was more than pleased to peel off him.

Shawn's skin-tight pants were more difficult.

“You're never wearing these again,” Carlton muttered darkly, bracing himself and tugging on the jeans.

“But they're so very hot,” Shawn gasped, lifting his hips and shimmying to try and help. The sight of Shawn's cock waving in the air was enough to distract Carlton, and it took Shawn's foot poking his chest to break him out of his reverie.

Carlton gave one almighty tug and fell back on his ass, jeans in hand and looking stunned.

“Lassy! The punch-line is supposed to come _later!_ ” Carlton stared stupidly up at Shawn, who was obviously struggling not to burst into laughter...and completely naked.

“Climax?” Carlton said with a deceptive smile. Shawn's eyes widened slightly and Carlton pounced, tackling him onto the bed and attacking Shawn's mouth, teeth nipping at Shawn's lips, tongues tangling. Shawn grabbed Lassy and raked his nails over Carlton's back, just to feel him flex.

“Wait wait wait!” Shawn pulled away from Carlton to ask. “We're really doing this, right? Like really doing this, not stopping or 'coming to your senses?' We're going all the w—” Carlton clapped his hand over Shawn's mouth in lieu of letting him completely ruin the moment. Carlton removed his hand, only to replace it when Shawn opened his mouth to continue speaking. Shawn would not ruin their second first time with an ill-advised comment.

Shawn seemed to get the message after a minute and mimed zipping his lips. Trust being key here, Carlton took Shawn at his gesture and reclaimed the use of his hand. Shawn kept his mouth shut, though with obvious strain.

“To answer your question,” Carlton said, grabbing a condom and lube off the nightstand, “ _yes._ ” And if anything interrupts us my gun is in the nightstand and I will _kill them,_ Carlton didn't add. Instead, he wrapped his hand around Shawn's cock and slowly jacked him, taking his time and making Shawn writhe beneath him. He slid his thumb over the head of Shawn's cock and into the slit, making Shawn hiss.

Carlton played with Shawn until he was an inarticulate mess, eyes glassy and unfocused, breath coming in harsh pants. God he was beautiful this way, defenseless and unguarded. He bent over and bit down on Shawn's nipple, just sharp enough to sting, which had Shawn arching up off the bed and swearing in languages Carlton didn't know Shawn knew.

Carlton used Shawn's distraction to reach for the supplies on the stand and tore open the little foil packet. His hands were only shaking slightly when he rolled the condom over Shawn's cock and slicked it up. It took Shawn a second to fight through the haze of arousal to realize what Carlton was doing.

“L-lassy?” Carlton added a twist to the end of his next stroke, a move that made Shawn lose all coherency. Perfect. Carlton reached behind him and worked the plug from his body, feeling the slick glide of lube. The thickest swell of the plastic brushed against Carlton's prostate and he jerked, vision sparking at the edges.

Carlton pulled the plug out the rest of the way, guided Shawn's cock to his entrance, and sank down with a groan. Shawn swore violently and jackknifed into a sitting position, forehead smacking into Carlton's. Hard.

“...ow,” Shawn groaned from where he flopped bonelessly back down to the bed.

“I'm starting to understand how tying you down is more of a necessity than a kink,” Carlton sighed, rubbing his forehead. He removed his hand to reveal a bright red splotch in the center of his brow. Shawn gaped at Carlton and then started giggling.

“You think this is funny, Spencer?” Carlton asked, glaring down at Shawn. It was completely ineffectual, not in small part because Carlton struggled to keep his own rueful grin from breaking free. Shawn tried to talk, but broke into a new round of giggles.

Well. Carlton certainly knew how to fix _that._

Carlton concentrated on tightening his internal muscles around Shawn, and his laugh turned into a gurgling gasp. Carlton smirked and used his leverage to move, enjoying the way Shawn's hands clutched spasmodically at his hips. Carlton bent over, twisting his hips so Shawn's cock was snug against his prostate, and pressed his lips to Shawn's ear.

“You're not laughing, Shawn,” he whispered. Shawn shuddered as Carlton's breath ghosted over his skin, raising goosebumps over Shawn's neck and arms.

“Nnnnooo,” Shawn drawled, bucking his hips and grinding his cock into Carlton's hip. Carlton chuckled darkly and raked his nails over Shawn's stomach, raising red welts over his skin, pale white shifting into dark tan at his waist.

Carlton licked a wet trail down Shawn's neck and rocked forward.

“LASSY!”

“Yes, Shawn?” Carlton asked, his voice strained.

Shawn didn't bother finishing his thought, just pushed up and toppled Carlton to the bed. He claimed Carlton's lips in a sloppy kiss, filled with hunger and desire. Carlton brought his legs up around Shawn's hips (he may have been recently convinced of the wonders of yoga and borrowed a few DVDs from Juliet), neck arching back at the feeling of being filled.

Shawn started moving, shallow thrusts of his hips. Carlton tried to match him and get a rhythm going, but it was like a couple of tone-deaf blind men trying to learn to play the saxophone by reading sheet music. Shawn would go left, Carlton would go right. They'd _both_ go right. One of them would stop, hoping the other would—by some miracle—figure something out.

“That's not—”

“Shawn! Elbow!”

“Sorry, Lassy, I—”

“MOVE it!”

“Right.”

“Are you _humming?_ ” Carlton demanded.

“I thought I would help,” Shawn explained, wondering how he could be so hard, and Carlton's body could be so hot, and he sucked so bad.

“That's the theme song to _Deliverance!_ ”

“Oh. I forgot about that.”

“This is hopeless,” Carlton groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. He took a deep breath. Really, they could do this. The night had started out well, it could still be salvaged. Most likely.

Christ, he was way too old for this kind of absurdity.

“Wait, we can—” Shawn said desperately, and then tried to move, except Carlton moved too, and it was just...not good. Shawn's expression turned a little panicked, and Carlton had to stifle a laugh. “What if we...no, OK, WAIT! Let's—”

“Stop,” Carlton ordered. Shawn paused, looking down at Carlton with a slight blush and disappointment suffusing his features. Carlton carefully unwound his legs from around Shawn's hips and pressed his feet to the bed, lifting his pelvis up, and arched a commanding eyebrow at Shawn. “Pillow.” Perhaps it had been a little premature, shunting his bossiness to the wayside. He was, after all, really good at being bossy (and man enough to admit that).

Shawn looked relieved and stretched over him to grab a pillow off the headboard, the movement driving his erection further into Carlton. Carlton made a strangled, choked noise and Shawn looked down with a grin.

“What was that, Lassy?” Shawn flexed and rotated his hips shallowly, rubbing against Carlton's prostate. “Didn't quite catch that.”

“I. Will. END YOU,” Carlton growled, and Shawn used his new position to thrust in again. He laughed and kissed the scowl off Carlton's face, dragging a pillow from the head of the bed and tucking it underneath Carlton's hips.

The new angle was perfect, allowing Shawn to move with ease and for Carlton to have some measure of control himself. Shawn bent down and nuzzled against Carlton's neck, his tongue darting out to lick at the sweat beading on Carlton's skin, hips moving in an age-old rhythm that was finally just right. Shawn kept going until Carlton was straining beneath him, muscles clenched with effort. Shawn slowed his thrusts until he was barely moving, watching Carlton's face as he tried to give into the pleasure without coming.

“Spencer!” Carlton gasped, face going red with the strain of being so fucking turned on and Shawn _barely moving._ “I will throw you in a dungeon if you don't move! Not kidding!”

“I didn't know it was possible to be that tense during sex,” Shawn mused. “Besides, being the Evil Overlord is not going to be as much fun as this.” Shawn punctuated his point by puling back and thrusting deep into Carlton. Carlton (gratifyingly) forgot how to be surly while Shawn lazily fucked him with sensuous, indulgent rolls of his hips.

Oh blessed pineapples, sex was just as fantastic as Shawn remembered.

Carlton, not out of the game for long, grunted and angled up so that every one of Shawn's thrusts hit against his prostate; he could come from this, no hand anywhere near his dick. Especially considering how worked up he already was. Carlton concentrated and tightened his inner muscles around Shawn's length, not wanting it to go but relishing the delicious friction as it slid in and out of him. Christ, he wasn't going to last long at this pace.

“Sh-Shawn!” Carlton called, feeling himself wavering on the brink. Shawn grabbed Carlton's leg and pulled it up around his waist, driving his cock deeper into Carlton. He could feel the tremors that shook Carlton's body with every thrust.

“SHAWN!” Carlton's warning came moments before his orgasm, the end clipped and high-pitched. Carlton's fingers twisted in the sheet. Shawn

“Y'broke me,” Shawn muttered into Carlton's chest. It was a nice chest. He liked that chest.

Carlton ran his hands over Shawn's body, slick with sweat. The deep contentment of the well-laid suffused him; if he never moved from right here, he'd be happy.

Shawn started getting cold, so he wiggled around until he could hook the comforter with his toes and pull it up far enough to grab it and cover them. Carlton rumbled his approval and nudged Shawn until he obligingly raised his head for an indulgent kiss, sleepy and warm.

***

“Oh glory, glory halle- _fuckin'_ -lujah!”

“How does she DO that?” Carlton muttered, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible in the crowded restaurant. Everyone was staring at them.

“Not everyone,” Shawn pointed out helpfully. “Look, they're completely engrossed in their menu!”

“They're children, Shawn.”

And then Esme was upon them, eyes glittering.

“Tell me EVERYTHING!” she commanded.

“The jeans, while hot, were a bad idea,” Shawn started.

“I miss Gus being your only friend,” Carlton groaned, banging his head on the tabletop.

“In the deserts of the heart  
let the healing fountain start,  
in the prison of his days  
teach the free man how to praise”  
~ W. H. Auden


**Author's Note:**

>  **Beta:** carinas_carinae, who doesn't even know this fandom but betaed for me anyways. Thank you lovely! This is me drawing internet hearts around you!


End file.
